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My breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
“He is bound to the chalice. It holds him even now. He walks between life and death.”
I had not thought she had noticed the grail lying untouched by Javer’s body.
Now she followed my gaze towards the prone figure. “Your friend?”
“Yes.” Javer had been my friend. I knew it now. Too little, too late. “He saved Kaye.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was another sound from the doorway, and a new group of people entered the room.
Rebels. All of them were armed. At the forefront were Galahad and Lancelet.
“The temple is secure,” Lancelet announced. She was carrying a heavy spear which she rested on the floor as she spoke. Her left arm was splinted and in a sling, her face was still battered and bruised, but her eyes burned with an excited fervor. “Morgan, it’s good to see you.” Her gaze drifted to Draven, then to the baby he held.
“There will be time for talk later,” Guinevere told her before the questions could begin. “But for now...”
She walked fearlessly towards Arthur, her blue robes sweeping the floor. Just as Merlin’s used to do.
My brother tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it.
When they were facing one another, she stopped.
The room had become very quiet.
“I owe you nothing. I will not apologize,” my brother said, raising his voice. But I could see he was shaking. “I am the king.”
“You are the king,” Guinevere said simply. “But what you owe me is your death. Until then, may you live with the true horror of what you have done.”
Before he could react, she touched her fingertips to his eyes.
Arthur shouted, but it was too late. Guinevere was already moving away from him to stand by Lancelet and the others.
“You have been blinded, Arthur.” She looked around the room, her eyes lingering on where my sister lay dead, her amethyst tresses spilling out around her, to Javer and the grail, then back to Kaye and I. “We all have.”
My brother was blinking his eyes and shaking his head like a man who had been submerged in a lake. “What have you done to me?”
“The scales are falling from your eyes,” Guinevere said. “It will be... painful.”
Arthur was gazing around the chamber as if he had never seen it before. He looked at me and Kaye. Then to where Orcades sprawled, her eyes sightless now forever.
Finally, his glance fell upon Medra where she rested in Draven’s arms.
My mate’s grip on the baby tightened protectively, and he frowned.
“That child.” Arthur’s voice was hoarse.
“Your child,” Guinevere said. “Do you understand now?”
“No.” Arthur was shaking his head. “I couldn’t have. It’s not possible.”
“You have done many things most would find impossible. Murdering children in their mother’s arms is only one of them. Your wife fled from you. She is dead now.” Guinevere’s voice was very calm.
I looked between her and my brother. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“A very long time ago, your brother sold himself at a very great price,” Guinevere said. “Ask him.”
